


do androids dream of cells interlinked?

by janie_tangerine



Category: Blade Runner (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Families of Choice, Father Figures, Fix-It, Gen, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Officer K | Joe Deserves Better, Officer K | Joe Needs a Hug, Post-Canon, Tumblr Prompt, accidental adoptions happening, and he gets it goddamn it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 09:09:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23968891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: Two hands move to his shoulders, gently stopping him from arching forward.He raises his eyes, meeting Deckard’s, and fuck the old man looks completely freaked out, and of course he would.K blinks once, twice, not really sure this is really happening because it makes a lot more sense than he’d be back in the interrogation room than here -“Hey,” Deckard says, sounding tentative, a hand going to the back of K’s head as he sits down on the side of the sofa he’s currently resting on, “didn’t know you could have ‘em, but it was just a nightmare. You’re - well. As safe as it goes, I guess. Stop looking like you’re gonna throw up.”
Relationships: Rick Deckard & Officer K | Joe
Comments: 6
Kudos: 80





	do androids dream of cells interlinked?

**Author's Note:**

> The lovely bigre-fichtre asked on a tumblr meme for 'It’s just a nightmare. You are safe.' + officer k/deckard signing his adoption papers and IT'S BEEN A LONG TIME BUT I STILL AM UTTER TRASH FOR THIS SCENARIO so here you go ;) the title is... well WHAT IT IS BECAUSE I HAD TO, nothing belongs to me and I still choose to think deckard did sign those fucking adoption papers at the end ;)

Sometimes, some colleagues did ask K if he dreamed at night. They never expected an answer, so he never gave them one, and when one of them joked about it, _but if you’re an android then do you count replicant sheep before going to sleep_ , he hadn’t bothered replying that in fact he _could_ , if he wanted, and that they don’t _need_ to sleep but they can pretend to in order to pass the time.

It’s not like they wanted that answer regardless.

But -

Since, well.

Since he _almost_ died in front of that lab, he’s been doing it without choosing to.

Most times it was passing away rather than sleeping, but he’s been more out of it than not, and even now that they’re hiding in some of Deckard’s safe houses until he gets his bearings he still can’t fucking stay awake for longer than a few hours, and most times it’s been - fine. It doesn’t hurt when he sleeps, or maybe it hurts _less_ , and his side is still feeling painful when he’s awake, so - good for that.

Except that right now it’s not -

It started with K walking into the baseline test room, which was nothing out of the ordinary, except that the walls were whiter and the chair seemed more uncomfortable and the voices were harsher and he failed it from the first moment, except that then Joshi asked him to do it again and he failed _twice_ , and then she had sounded vaguely sorry as she told him that she couldn’t let him leave, and then the door had been locked and water had started trickling into the room from somewhere -

And then the door wouldn’t budge and the water felt cold and salty and merciless and it tasted like the ocean, if that was how the ocean was supposed to taste, maybe, and in theory he couldn’t die suffocated _but_ he felt like he would and it’s not like he could just float in that room forever as he tried to say _within cells interlinked_ all over and just water and blood would come out of his mouth, not words, _never_ words, and he tried to scream them but he couldn’t, he _wouldn’t_ , and fuck maybe if he got to the end he’d get out and they’d see he hasn’t failed this goddamned test at all -

“Fuck,” he hears someone that’s not Joshi and sounds so far away, “ _fuck_ , kid, wake up, this is not -”

“Against the dark a tall white fountain played,” he blurts, and he can’t hear himself, so he screams it _again_ -

And then he opens his eyes and he winces as he hears himself shouting that fucking line and pain spreads through his side, _fast_ , hard, and _shit_ he wants to vomit, does his kind even fucking vomit because he’s not sure it’s ever happened to him before -

Two hands move to his shoulders, gently stopping him from arching forward.

He raises his eyes, meeting Deckard’s, and _fuck_ the old man looks completely freaked out, and of course he would.

K blinks once, twice, not really sure this is really happening because it makes a lot more sense than he’d be back in the interrogation room than _here_ -

“Hey,” Deckard says, sounding tentative, a hand going to the back of K’s head as he sits down on the side of the sofa he’s currently resting on, “didn’t know you could have ‘em, but it was just a nightmare. You’re - well. As safe as it goes, I guess. Stop looking like you’re gonna throw up.”

He breathes in, out, in, out. He’s fine. No, he’s not but he thinks he _will_ be, if he just can stop thinking about it, and he hates the noise that comes out of his throat and this is _not_ what he should be doing, this would have gotten him decommissioned a lifetime ago, not even so far away -

He gasps when Deckard says something like _fuck it_ under his breath and moves his arms around his shoulders, holding him closer, and _closer_ , and oh.

Oh.

The last time, it was with that prostitute that Joy hired so _she_ could -

The noise he makes _now_ is still pained but not the same as the one he just made before.

“Hey,” Deckard says, a hand cupping the back of his head, so very gently even if his palms are rough, “you’re okay. You’ll be okay. And I don’t do tests anymore.”

K _has_ to snort against the man’s shoulder, as strange as it feels, and then he dares reaching up, moving his hands around Deckard’s back, and if he closes his eyes he can pretend that maybe he really was - _he really was_ -

“Can’t believe I’m asking this,” Deckard says, “but - ah, fuck it. Would you feel better if I laid down there too while you try to rest?”

K isn’t sure he heard right. “You don’t have to -” He says, trying to silence the burning need to say yes.

“Yeah, yeah, I don’t do a thing I don’t want to, and it’s not like I’ll get to make up for lost time with Ana when we get her properly, and you have _her_ memories, I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t looked me up and I wouldn’t have found her if it wasn’t for you, I think that at this point we can stop pretending I’m doing this because I think I owe you and that I didn’t let you die in the snow because I owed you. We can also not assume you have to _say_ anything about it, so: yes or no?”

He should say no.

“Yes,” he replies, his voice smaller than he’d like.

“Scoot over,” Deckard replies, and K does, and when Deckard moves an arm around his waist he feels warmer than he can remember being, and when he closes his eyes again he dreams of nothing at all.

End


End file.
